The Great Salt Lake

Do you remember when
we went to swim
in the great salt lake?
And could neither float
nor sink?

Do you remember how
the wet and the sun felt
on our naked bodies?
It was nothing like sex
in the dark--
as I remember it.

Do you remember the broken
bird we found? A delicate
creature we caradled in our
slender, knobby arms,
before we made a cradle
of sticks lined with dead,
reedy marsh grass,
and bid it a bittersweet
farewell.

Do you remember the stray tom
found outside on the stoop?
scatched, limping
and licking it's wounds in the sun?
The windblown door-- heavier than
I could reasonably push, closing
quickly and loudly. Startled into
the quiet street and the passing
car-- which destroyed me.

Do you remember when
we swam in the Great Salt Lake?
Where we emerged baptismally
from the water,
as naked
as we slid into the water?
And we felt different,
but never really changed.


copyright 2006 Samuel Lewis Nelson